


Good Little Soldier

by SecretRock



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Post-Season/Series 08, i can't write anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:25:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9857831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretRock/pseuds/SecretRock
Summary: After months of leading the Blues through endless and pointless fights against the Reds, Washington is tired, but comfortable. He thinks he's ready to move on from PFL, but when his past comes back he isn't so sure.





	

It had been a quiet night up until that point, the canyon air still and everyone except Wash, and probably Sarge, soundly asleep for what felt like the first time in weeks. Wash wasn't asleep because he was trying to nurse one of his frequent headaches. They came and went on a whim, and he wasn't sure if they were caused by caffeine or stress or a brain tumour. He hoped it wasn't a brain tumour. 

He slowly opened his eyes at the sound of gunfire from Red Base and stared at his room wall as if his gaze could melt it, and then melt the Reds. Loud bangs and clatters were not helping with the pounding in his head that was already being aggravated by Caboose's monstrous snoring. He envied the guy, being able to sleep through this racket that was undoubtedly one of Sarge's idiotic training drills. That guy never knew when to take a break, but Wash had to admire his resolve. He wasn't one to give up on anything he wanted.  
Wash sighed with relief as the guns stopped and returned to rubbing his temples. He'd already taken too many, but he considered taking some more aspirin. You couldn't overdose on aspirin, could you? He waited a few more minutes then shook his head. More aspirin it was.

He was careful not to make too much sound as he left his room and walked to the medicine cabinet. Sure Caboose could sleep through gunfire but Wash didn't want to find out if he was the type to wake up at the sound of a door closing. He popped two pills out and swallowed them, resting his forehead against the bathroom mirror and letting the cool glass calm the metaphorical hammer pounding against his skull. He let Caboose's rhythmic snoring and the otherwise silent canyon soothe him. It was one of the first peaceful nights he could remember.

Then there was a thump.

A thump disturbed Wash's perfect, peaceful night. A thump that shouldn't have been there. Wash was aware in a flash. His head was still pounding, and he was a bit disorientated, but his training kicked in, guided him. As an anti-Caboose measure, no guns were allowed in the dorms, and the armoury was on the other side of the base, so Wash knew he was weaponless. He also knew that no matter who it was, he could take them without a gun.

He moved through the base, sticking to the shadows, his feet not making sounds on the floor. There hadn't been another noise. Wash was starting to think that maybe he'd imagined it; the tranquillity was so alien to him that his mind had made up something to make it feel less so. Those doubts disappeared as soon as he saw movement, just a dash in the shadows. Silently, Wash moved after it. 

He saw them at the end of a corridor, hesitating just after the doorway they'd passed. They were obviously a person now, the outline of the armour silhouetted by the faint light. It looked oddly like Tucker, even though he'd have no reason to be walking around in full armour in the middle of the night. Still, if Tucker had made that mistake, Wash would go easy on him, and maybe let him out of laps for a day or two to apologise.

The aspirin still hadn't taken effect, but he knew that he wouldn't need it. He struck out, his hand aiming for where he knew the armour wasn't. He shouted in surprise as the person's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist, their reflexes amazingly fast. He yelped in pain as they twisted it around behind him, forcing him to turn around too. They could have easily broken his arm, but instead they let it go with a short, feminine laugh.

"You've improved, Washington." She said as he rolled his shoulder and rubbed his wrist. He turned, finally seeing the cyan armour in decent light. She did look a lot like Tucker, but now Wash knew better. He took a few deep breaths, trying to process this and was formulating some kind of response until a voice behind him made him jump.

"Look Tucker, there are two of you!" Caboose oh-so-helpful;y pointed out, grinning from ear to ear as he looked between Tucker and the newcomer. Tucker was just squinting into the darkness, trying to figure out if someone had stolen his armour. He then locked eyes with Wash, an unspoken question in the air between them.

Who the fuck is this?

Wash acknowledged the question and took a few more seconds to think of an appropriate response while Caboose raved about how awesome this was.

"What are you doing here, Carolina?" Wash asked, his voice angry and tired. The adrenaline of a possible intruder in the base was wearing off and his headache was returning full force. Carolina sighed, her visor turning towards the floor. This wasn't the Carolina that Wash remembered, the competitive spirit, natural leader. She was disheartened; disappointed. Disappointed by Wash's team. He felt his neck prickling. Just what he needed.

"I'm looking for the Director." She said, looking up again. Wash froze, Caboose had shut up, thank God, and Tucker was still staring. "Someone told me where to find you. Any idea where he's hiding?" She asked, crossing her arms, and Wash tried to find the right words again. The commanding Carolina was back, and so was the rookie Washington, the guy that got a grappling hook stuck to his crotch. He took a few deeps breaths. He wasn't turning back into Freelancer Wash.

"You-you were dead, Carolina," He said, his hands balling into fists at his side as he tried to hide his anger. His 'friend' was back from the dead, he should be thankful, happy, not angry at her for leaving; for pretending to be dead; for not coming back for him after the crash. He should be happy. "I don't know where he is. And I can't find out for you," He told her as Carolina reached up and pulled her helmet off, apparently not seeing Wash's balled fists and angry expression, not noticing the edge to his voice, an edge that he really wished wasn't there.

She looked tired, just like he felt. Her green eyes had lost their sparkle, one that had been there even post-AIs. She had a new scar on her cheek, and Wash found that he didn't care how she got it. Her business was her business, and that business wasn't his team. His team shouldn't get involved in it. Freelancer business was always messy. Carolina opened her mouth to ask something, but Wash knew what she was going to say and cut her off.

"I can't find out, they think I'm dead." Carolina looked up, locking eyes with Wash. He couldn't read her, he never could, but he could tell what she wanted. Deep down, he knew that he wanted the same thing and that there was only one way to get it, but now he had friends, a base, and whatever the Reds were. He wasn't giving that up. "I can't come back," He told her.

"Sure you can, Mr Washingtub," Caboose told Wash, and all eyes moved to him. Even Tucker, who Wash had half expected to start flirting with Carolina, seemed shocked by that statement. Wash hadn't expected Caboose to entirely understand the legal ramifications of his actions over the past few years, but he'd expected a little more than what he was getting. "Church did it, so can you."

"Caboose, go back to bed." Wash ordered.

"But-"

"Caboose, now!" Caboose recoiled at the shouting, his signature smile gone. Tucker took him by the arm, leading Caboose out of the room while glaring at the two ex-Freelancers. Caboose was upset, but Wash could make it up to him later by getting him a cake or something. He turned back and Carolina was staring at him. Caboose had really fucked up this time. He took a deep breath, staring back into those green eyes. "So we know where an AI might be, there's no guarantee that-"

"Where is he?" She demanded.

"No, I'm not risking my te-"

"Where, Agent Washington?" There were a few seconds before Wash's eyes fell to the floor. 

"At a base somewhere in the south, but I can't abandon my team to go with you," He quickly tacked on the last part, sensing what Carolina would ask, or order, next. Wash was finally at home, and despite a few arguments, he felt right here.

"Of course not," Carolina agreed, and Wash felt the tension of his worry evaporate in his chest. Then it came back in double strength. "I'll need back up, and they might not be the best, but they'll do. Those idiots in red across the canyon might be useful too," Carolina fitted her helmet back over her head, tucking her long, bright red hair under it. Wash searched for the words to argue with, but he couldn't find them. Carolina turned and started to walk to the exit, probably going to deal with those 'reds across the canyon'. As she neared the exit, she glanced back,

"Get some sleep, Wash, you'll need it." She told him, waiting for him to go to keep walking. When he didn't move, neither did she. "Sleep, Washington," She repeated.

"Yes, ma'am."


End file.
